A new semester had just begun, and I was late to class.

BOOM!

It all happened at once. My arms straightened out in front of me, my books fell, I screamed then fell to my knees just in time to make sure I didn’t hit my head.

All the other college students walking down the sidewalk stopped and looked in my direction. Panting, with tears coming out of my eyes, I crawled on the grass to get my books while knowing the worst had happened.

My defibrillator had just shocked my heart back into a steady rhythm.

Rushing, I ignored the fluttering my chest as I ran down the stairs from the parking lot. I further ignored the dizziness that started to come as I hurried down the sidewalk towards the classroom, thinking that I would just power through the chest pain and flutters as I always had.

As a former high school and college wrestler, I lived my life by the maxim ‘mind over matter.’ As a former professional fighter, just one year out from my last fight in Tokyo, I believed that I could overcome the discomfort of chest pain, as I had been doing for the last year and a half.

“But my defibrillator shattered those illusions. It was as if it were whispering to me—no, punishing me—for ignoring the signs and symptoms my body begged me to listen to.”

An ambulance arrived within 10 minutes, and I was taken to a hospital. I was still shaking but the pain from the defibrillator has dissipated and the shock had worn off. The ER doctors coordinated with my team of doctors and determined that I would need to be on medication to help prevent further arrhythmias that would cause my defibrillator to shock me again.

The prescription I was given was an antiarrhythmic called Amiodarone. I had never taken prescription medicine before; I balked even at taking painkillers. If I could power through a little bit of pain, I thought I wouldn’t need medical intervention. After I’d picked up the medication, I read the signs and symptoms and saw that it could cause lung, liver, and thyroid damage; that I couldn’t eat grapefruit, and I had to stay out of the sun or else I’d turn blue; and, that it could worsen arrhythmias. There were more side effects, but I’d seen enough. When the checkout counter machine asked if I would like to speak to a pharmacist, I selected the “yes” button and went to wait.

“You’re on a high dose of this medication,” was the first thing the pharmacist said to me when she came up to the counter. “Are you sure it’s supposed to be this high?”

“I don’t know. My doctor just said I needed to take it.”

The pharmacist looked concerned, but she went on to explain the medication and its possible side effects. Since this was the first medication I had to take, I wanted to make sure I was doing it right.

Between the end of August and into September, I slowly developed some new routines. I was having more palpitations and arrhythmias, but no shocks. Since that first shock happened on the university’s campus, I had flashbacks every time I drove past the parking structure. I now parked in a different lot and walked slowly and carefully to class. It became harder for me to catch my breath; I always felt like I could not get enough air. Even if my heart rate was steady, I felt lightheaded and dizzy when I walked too much. I asked one of my classmates to walk with me in between classes so that I wouldn’t be alone if anything happened.

I explained to my professors about the situation with my heart. One professor asked, “How can you be a teacher if you can’t walk around a classroom?” That was the first time I realized I had a bigger problem than just mobility. Could my heart disease impact my ability to work?

By the end of September, I was having such a hard time walking that I would have to take breaks along the walk between classes. I struggled to get up the stairs to the apartment I shared with my now-husband. Neither of us understood what was going on. Only year ago, I had been training five hours a day: a run in the morning, an hour of CrossFit in the afternoon, boxing and jiu jitsu for another hour each, and then a session of live wrestling or fighting. I was thinking I might have another professional fight on the horizon. How had I become so helpless in the last few months?

When a reminder arrived from the Department of Motor Vehicles about renewing my license, I answered the questions thinking everything was going to be fine. A few weeks later, I was staring at the return letter I had in my hands. My driver’s license had been revoked due to unstable cardiac rhythms. Of course, I’d been honest and had had reported having passed out, but I didn’t think anything of it. Now, with a suspended license and my added difficulties with mobility, I had a different life.

I used to be so strong. And now I thought, “All I want to do is wrestle and be normal again. Oh my God. I must be dying.”

By mid-October, I’d told my doctors that without a driver’s license and the ability to walk, I could not work anymore. Then I applied for disability. I called taxis to take me to school in the afternoons. The hardest part was walking down the stairs at my apartment complex and getting to a side street where the taxi driver could find me.

On the days when I didn’t have school, after my partner left for work, I moved from bed to couch. When he came home in the afternoons, I was still on the couch. We had no idea what was going on except that I was declining rapidly in both body and spirit.

How was this my new normal? I didn’t want to stand for it (pun intended). But my doctors didn’t have answers. I felt the days stretch on and my misery consumed me.

It’s been almost 10 years since my first shock, and I can't believe that I still have my original defibrillator implanted. I married my partner a few years after my heartquake, and I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy just over a year ago. I have been teaching for eight years now, and I always make it a point to help coach the wrestling team. It brings me joy to mentor the next generation of young ladies in their wrestling careers. I can still do some light wrestling. So a few days a week, my husband and I train at a local jiu jitsu gym. I will never be the athlete I once was, but I still enjoy some controlled live wrestling or hitting the pads. As a bonus, our son loves running around with our boxing gloves while he watches us work out! 

My most recent defibrillator check showed that my battery had about one year of life left. When that battery was implanted, it consumed me with confusion and fear. It lasted twice as long as the doctors predicted it would. Next year when I have it replaced, I will be able to take it home and place it on a shelf with my family pictures and wrestling awards.

Today, I appreciate the second chance my defibrillator has given me. I am more sure of myself, and feel grateful for the life I have created.